Sons of Ironstorm - Book 4: Griffon's Stand

Dark Discoveries

Gone. Ciradaan had to fight the impulse to drop to his knees in despair. One of the prophesied Wielders was gone. The Norak Utterance, their guiding force and strength for the last eleven cycles, was abruptly in danger of failing. How could they go on without a Wielder to protect them against the Return?

Without warning the Sword of Aesthegon warmed against Ciradaan's back and a tidal surge of anger washed away the ice in his veins and the despair in his heart.

<<Then they can watch us leave,>> he snarled, pushing aside the unease that swelled up at seeing the weathered old human so frightened by whatever he had seen and sensed from the scrying globe. It was time they retreated and regrouped with Shawn. He would know how to help his stricken brother. With that thought in mind, Ciradaan lifted the Sword of Aesthegon and willed the blade to open a gateway to Elvenfast.

<<Time to go!>>

And he found himself an instant later down on one knee, his vision swimming and head pounding with pain.

<<What ... what the frosty hell?>> he husked even as Fenoran knelt beside him, his friend's eyes wide with concern as they looked him over.

"They don't want us to leave," Charon stated in a low, strained voice, still staring up at the sky.

Fenoran threw the wizard a quick look before returning his attention to Ciradaan.

<<Ciradaan! What happened to you?>> he asked quietly but with obvious concern in his voice.

<<I ... I tried to open a portal to Elvenfast with the Sword of Aesthegon,>> Ciradaan hissed through teeth grit against the pounding pain in his head, <<but something not only blocked me from doing so, but actually attacked me somehow. My head feels like somebody's pounding on it with a hammer against an anvil.>>

<<Then rest easy, old friend, and care for that head,>> Fenoran urged, lifting his head to take a quick look to see where Halen was. <<It would appear we're meant to stay here. At least, for the time being.>>

Not spotting the slender Var Ethisdil cleric right away, the Lusinoran monarch returned his attention to the staring old human. Time to get this situation under some semblance of control, he silently mused.

<<Wizard!>> he barked sharply and, giving a start, Charon blinked rapidly as he snatched his attention from whatever vision was consuming him and turned watery eyes onto the elven king.

Seeing that he had recaptured the human's attention, Fenoran fixed him with a hard look.

<<Whatever has happened to the Wielder, we mustn't let it deter us from what we can accomplish here,>> He tautly stated. <<We cannot panic. We are interred within thick and magically-reinforced walls, well enough that the demons have yet to break through to us. And if your giants meant us immediate harm, I'm fairly certain they would've already visited it upon us. So turn your thoughts and attention away from them and focus on what we need to do here and now, to insure those now alive will continue living for another day. Do you understand?>>

<<Of course, of course,>> Charon husked, visibly straightening and squaring his shoulders resolutely.

<<Good.>> Fenoran eased the shaken and in-pain Ciradaan carefully to the smooth flagstones that had appeared under foot at the fortress's restoration.

<<Now, I have some thousand soldiers and officers that survived that bloodbath out in the fen beyond the gates, many of them badly wounded. We need to care for them immediately or they'll die of their wounds. Do you have a healer in your company?>>